


slow hands

by tamagotchitadashi



Series: Oikawa Rarepair Week 2017 [2]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: (sort of), Aged-Up Character(s), Canon Compliant, Comfort, Domestic Fluff, M/M, Roasts, this is 700 words of them being domestic im sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-21
Updated: 2017-07-21
Packaged: 2018-12-05 01:02:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11567055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tamagotchitadashi/pseuds/tamagotchitadashi
Summary: Takahiro and Tooru are domestic and in love.





	slow hands

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Oikawa Rarepair Week Day 2, prompt "Post-Canon".

Takahiro is perfectly chilled, sitting on the floor of the bathroom, their stupid, perfect cat - Kuroneko, because Issei and his Oreimo-watching-ass needs to stay the fuck away from him - on his leg, inspecting the green speck of glitter of his foot. 

Neither of them - them always means him and Tooru - use glitter often (the edible kind is the only kind he tolerates), but he bets it was because of either Yahaba or Tendou. The only people he knows he would probably traipse into their home with glitter anywhere near them. 

Yahaba because he's an arts and crafts junkie, Tendou because he's the sort of psychopath who would like the dastardly substance.

Gross.

He's wearing Tooru's weird-ass tie dye pyjama bottoms, a tank top with some stupid slogan on it and a single flip-flop, and he'd probably consider falling asleep here if Tooru hadn't just walked into the house. He hears the door noises from upstairs.

"I'm up here!" Takahiro yells, and soon enough he hears the sounds of sock-clad feet padding upstairs. A weary-looking beauty drapes himself over his pink-haired boyfriend, and Kuroneko lets out a hiss, removing herself from his leg and sauntering out of the room with the dignity that only felines could possess.

Although, Tooru does a pretty good impression.

"How was practice, love?" He asks, running a hand through his boyfriend's disheveled brown hair. He receives an ambiguous, but exhausted-sounding noise in return, and nods in agreement despite the fact Tooru can't see him. "I'm sure you did great."

"I flunked so many serves, Makki," Comes Tooru's sad, broken voice. Takahiro shushes him, not unkindly, patting his hair. He knows "so many" means about three out of a hundred in Tooru's books, but doesn't belittle his concerns - he probably worked himself even harder with every messed up serve, and worries silently over Tooru's health, especially his bad leg.

"Don't beat yourself up. There's always tomorrow, right? You just need to rest up, love. We've got all of tomorrow morning to stay in bed and you'll bet your ass I'll fuckin' pin you down if you so much as try to go anywhere volleyball-related."

"You should've continued playing, you know. You could've played professionally."

"Nah. It was always you and Hajime, the ones who'd go on to become pros. And with all the stress, emotional and physical, it puts you through, I definitely wouldn't be able to deal with it," Takahiro says with a shrug, "Come on, let's go watch Real Housewives re-runs or something. You need to relax."

"And how exactly am I supposed to relax when Brandi and Kim are at each other's throats again?" Tooru responds, rhetorical, as he gets up and leans against the bath, offering a hand to help up his badly dressed boyfriend, without making a comment on him being badly dressed. And they say chivalry is dead.

"By the way, you look like a Barbie that's been dragged through the mud and given a makeover by your kid's brother." Nope, wait, suddenly getting reports that it's dead as shit.

"At least I ain't got Ken's ugly ass plastic hair," Takahiro snorts, elbowing the brunet once they're both standing up, before taking him by the hand and dragging him out of the bathroom and into their bedroom.

"Nah, but you look like Stephanie from Lazytown tried to cut her own terf bangs," Tooru says smugly, and Takahiro has to admit, he's feeling kind of called out there. That was a good goddamn roast.

"What, like when you cut all your hair off for a magic trick?"

"I was eight! At least I don't look like the dude from Yarichin Bitch Club!"

"In this house, we don't talk about Yarichin Bitch Club."

"What's with the cosplay you and Issei did, then?"

"Shut up, mentioning the dark times is going too far!"

They laugh, and cuddle up together on the sofa to continue their banter and watch some reality television, or that weird idol game show they both like (Tooru open about it, while Takahiro swears he only watches it ironically). Takahiro's mentions the glitter and the suspects and they consider other causes (their nieces and nephews, the Yuri!!! on Ice cosplay Tooru made, etcetera etcetera), and Tooru presses a kiss to his boyfriend's cheek and yeah, they're okay. They're good.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading! please leave kudos and a comment if you enjoyed - concrit is always welcome :)
> 
> come yell at me about rarepairs and hanamaki (pls):  
> tumblr: semieitamatic  
> art blog: elluleart


End file.
